


Yellow Red Sparks

by missherlocked



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen, M/M, akashi does what he wants, akashi is super hot in yukata, and akashi likes it, exorcist!akashi, i'm scared of akashi's fans, kuroko can see things, this is supposedly natsume yuujinchou au, what is akashi? akashi is king
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:11:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missherlocked/pseuds/missherlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're tangled before you let go;<br/>You're tangled before you get choked;<br/>You're tangled before you get smoked.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Akashi-san,” appealed Tetsuya after the shiki left.  There was a delicious tremble in his voice.  “You can see them too?”<i></i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow Red Sparks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fancyshipper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyshipper/gifts).



> I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. I do not make any profit from this.  
> Title and summary taken from Yellow Red Sparks- Hope on a Rope.  
> For Shuluh. I'm sorry, and I love you.
> 
> Ayakashi and youkai means spirit. I think youkai is the singular noun? I need to research more hngh.

At the edge of the forest, just to the east of the Inugatake hill—named for its abundance of wild dogs, a long time ago, when the shrine for the local Inu God was glorious and full of offerings—there was a house.

It wasn’t an ordinary house.  It was the House of Akashi, whose grounds stretch beyond the horizon and fenced with sharp-tipped gates.  The rooftop glowed when the orange ball of the sun rose and set, so strategic the location was; wooden floor gleamed despite of its age and guardian statues stood proud and shone golden on each corner of the house.  There were five of them, for it served as five-point ward, and there were eight more on the outer part of the house, bigger and shaped differently.

There used to be only three statues on the outside, of sleeping dragons, but the Akashis dealt in dangerous business and the descendants understandably grew more paranoid as the family became larger, so they kept the dragons and built another five, of proud Fenghuang birds.  The feathers were as detailed as the dragons’ scales, and even though they stood in one leg their stance wasn’t unlike lofty warriors, eyes piercing and beak held high.

But there was no need for these barriers anymore.  For the last Akashi’s heir was so powerful, the most powerful anyone had ever seen, that no ayakashi would dare to venture even to the hill.  This heir was named Seijurou.

Seijurou had no siblings.  He had one cousin who would replace him should he die, but he was weak, weak, weak.  Seijurou was young, but he was already chosen as the head of the clan.   _(“How could you,” his father said before he died, and to that Seijurou replied, “How couldn’t I, Father,”_ )  He had many tales, but one was more favored than the others; the one in which he killed the Inu God just to prove his worth to his father, who had passed away two years ago by now.  He lost an eye, but he didn’t lose his family’s respect for it.

The Inu God had gouged his eye out, some would say, and the other said, The Inu God had placed a curse on it.  Seijurou himself never said anything. 

He told his family though, once, one year after the incident, that should the bandage fell loose the family must prepare for battle.  The Inus were nothing but revengeful, and the Inu God had a counterpart on far south, who had seen only Seijurou’s left eye after the slaying took place.  Though not as powerful, the counterpart’s wrath was majestic.  He ordered the Inus and his troops to attack any human whose left eye had a mark of the Inu God.

What mark it was, no one knew.  However, after a year or two, nobody was asking about it anymore.

(“I saw the devil’s eye!” a servant cried out, one morning, after he delivered the master’s tea. “Shh,” the others said.  That was the end of it.)

The point was this: Seijurou was no man to cross, for either ayakashi or human.  Because of that, despite of his business, he was relatively unchallenged.  This went on and on until one particular fine day in summer, when it wasn’t too hot nor too breezy, that things began to change.

Seijurou found him in his porch when he opened the door.  As the master of the house he never once opened the door himself, but this was different.  He felt him passing the wards, not unlike an object moving through the water—there was resistance, but not enough to contain.  Seijurou had to see for himself.

Whether it was a youkai or a boy, Seijurou wasn’t sure.  No ayakashi without a binding to the wards could go across the barrier, but no regular human could emit this level of spiritual power, either.  This being was a curious case, even more with his absence.  Seijurou wouldn’t have noticed him if he hadn’t had this power, which burned his skin and shone like a beacon.  When the redhead—no Akashi was without red hair—licked his lips, he tasted the wonder’s strength in the air.

It tasted like nothing.  It was strange, because Akashi never tasted nothingness before.  Everything always had a taste.

There was no ill intent from the wonder.  He was young, so thin in the verge of malnourished, and pale.  Maybe he was a Yurei—the spirit of those who died and kept on earth.  He didn’t look mischievous, like a Zashiki-warashi would.  He just looked lost.  Perhaps he died, but he didn’t realize he had, and thus carried on living.  This wasn’t the first time Seijurou had found such case.   In addition, with hair like that—not color of the sky, not the color of the deep water—the wonder couldn’t be human.

The usual seal wouldn’t work on him, Seijurou thought.  His collection was extensive, but it wouldn’t hurt to add just one more, especially one of this caliber.

“Excuse me,” said the wonder, polite.  His gaze, however, it wasn’t shy; it was headstrong and determined and focused.  People didn’t usually look him in the eye, but this one did.  The stare fell on his bandaged eye several times, no more than a curious regard, but the other always caught himself and settled to focus on the normal pair.

Maybe he was indeed human.  No ayakashi was able to enter his grounds, after all.  Furthermore, no ayakashi was ever polite to an Akashi, considering their job.

“I was just taking my dog for a walk around here and then suddenly he’s gone,” the boy continued.  “Would you mind to check whether my dog has wandered to your…” here he paused, looking around and blinked thrice, as if he just realized the sheer size of his lawn, “…garden?  He rather likes magnolia.”

The boy’s eyes flitted towards a gigantic, blooming magnolia on the far side of the house, before landing on Seijurou again.  With that the boy just confirmed his fate—Seijurou wouldn’t let him escape, now.  It was no ordinary magnolia tree.  Magnolias didn’t bloom in late summer.  The seed itself was the heart of the Yuuka Kazami, a flower youkai, and was planted on the Second Dimension, thus the tree was supposedly invisible to naked eye.

Seijurou decided not to ask why a young boy took his dog for a walk this far.  Perhaps it wasn’t an average dog either, because no dog could stand the smell of Akashi.

“I think my gardener mentioned it, not too long ago.  What does your dog look like?”

The relief on the boy wonder’s face was so very innocent, that Seijurou’s impatience spark—he couldn’t wait to mend a pure slate to his liking.  Of course, there was no report of a dog on his grounds.  Seijurou would know.

“A husky,” answers the boy.  “His color was black and white.  He was this-“ here, he extended his bony arms, “-big.  His name is Nigou.”

Seijurou nodded.  He smiled to put the boy more at ease.  He hadn’t a lot of practice to make himself look harmless, but he thought he’d succeeded in fooling the boy.

“My gardener is out in the forest to look for some herbs.  Would you like to come in and wait for him inside?”

The boy hesitated.  “I wouldn’t want to impose,” he spoke.

“You can have some tea while you wait,” Seijurou offered.  “I happen to collect tea in all flavors.  I have oolong, ryoukucha, jasmine, vanilla, chamomile…”

There was a subdued cheer on the boy’s countenance when Seijurou listed his teas.  Seijurou widened his smile, careful to keep one corner of his lips even to the other, and gestured the other in with a tilt of his head.

“Okay,” said the boy.  He didn’t forget to say thank you afterwards, and then said it again when Seijurou held the sliding door open for him. 

Such a pleasant boy.  So sweet looking, too. 

“My name is Kuroko Tetsuya,” he introduced himself when Seijurou asked.  Akashi-san, the boy had called him, with tentative voice.  Seijurou had wanted the boy to call him Akashi-sama, but he would learn.  Tetsuya had looked like a fast learner.

The sitting room for the guests was actually close by, but Seijurou guided him to one designed for more special guests and private purpose, deep inside the house.  Seijurou made sure they went the long way there, passing the same corridor twice and making unnecessary turns, so that Tetsuya would have a difficult time to come back, if he did try to flee. 

The young head of the Akashi clan subtly threw a quick glance at the wonder boy, who was walking a little bit behind him.  It did seem like he had caught on, judging from how tense his figure was, but if he really did he didn’t comment on it.  He held his hands weirdly: three fingers of his right hand were curled out whilst the other one only had two, and only after some moments had Seijurou realized that they were the counts of the turns to the left and right.

Tetsuya was proving to be more and more entertaining…  Very clever, too.  Seijurou imagined cheerily about five ways to fake the boy’s death, like that of one picturing what the dinner was going to be.  He filed in his head, things that he had to prepare: paperwork, paperwork; and so much money, but that wasn’t a problem; Tetsuya’s dental and hospital records, which was a necessity in making a fake corpse; and the matter of Tetsuya’s homeschooling…

Seijurou was shaken from his reverie when Tetsuya shuffled closer to him.  His features were blank, but the line of his shoulder suggested that he did it consciously—he was avoiding one of Seijurou’s shiki, which were stationed almost on every nook of the house.  That wasn’t the first shiki they’ve crossed path with, but this was the biggest one, taking half of the hallway by himself. 

“What’s wrong?” Seijurou asked. He couldn’t quite keep the mockery out of his voice, but it seemed like Tetsuya was too distracted to notice.

“It’s-“ and the wonder boy gulped, pale cheeks coloring to the shade of peach rose, lips opening as if he just remembered to breathe.  “-nothing.”

Tetsuya looked up at Seijurou worriedly and at the shiki, then he hobbled closer again, somehow putting himself between Seijurou and the giant shiki as they passed.  He repeated the action, until he was fully behind him when the shiki was far away, and to his right side a little bit to the back when they made another turn when the shiki was gone from sight.

Seijurou contemplated the quaint behavior.  How amusing, it was almost as if the boy was trying to protect Seijurou from the shiki…

“Your house is very big,” remarked Tetsuya, out of the blue. 

“We’re almost there,” Seijurou convinced the other in a cheerful manner then, which wasn’t bought by Tetsuya at all.

They reached the private sitting room not long after that.  Since it was floored with tatami mat, they took the slipper off before entering.  Seijurou asked Tetsuya to make himself at home.  He meant it, because the younger male wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

“Vanilla, please,” answered Tetsuya when Seijurou asked him about his preference, though the boy didn’t look as excited about the prospect of tea as before. 

“One second,” Seijurou said.  He went out and rang a traditional bell two rooms away.  A maid quickly appeared, and Seijurou asked her to make one vanilla tea and the usual for him.  He also told her not to bring it to the private guest room—he’d delivered it himself.

The drink settled, Seijurou made his way to the storage room nearby.  The two shiki guarding it bowed deeply when he entered, only straightening up when he couldn’t see them anymore.  He was looking for _shimenawa_ —a particular rope made from rice straw, created to seal and made powerful but temporary barrier.  With how powerful Tetsuya was, he needed an exceptional knot: one across his back and around his stomach.  It would look good on him, Seijurou thought.  He imagined the rope burns Tetsuya would wear on the pale skin under the flimsy shirt he was wearing, and Seijurou got extremely giddy in that prospect.

“Akashi-sama,” Shintarou called out to him, finally revealing his presence.  He was never far from Seijurou.  “Are you planning to force the boy into a contract?”

Seijurou opened the red box in his hand.  The container was painted with yellow phoenix in flight.  To open it, Seijurou had to break a paper seal. 

“In the moment I’m very tempted to.”

There was no response to that for a second.  Shintarou must be pushing up his glasses right now, a gesture he was unconsciously doing when he was unsure whether to give Seijurou a piece of his mind or not.

“Akashi-sama,” he started again.  “Perhaps you should ask the boy first.”

 _He has a family and a life.  You can’t just kidnap him_ , was what Shintarou possibly aiming to say.  Seijurou pursed his lips, considering.  He took the shimenawa from its place and bent it—the rope surrendered easily, flexible and springy.  There was a smell of dried grass and dust.

“I probably should,” Seijurou agreed.  It was only polite, wasn’t it; Tetsuya had only shown him civility and courtesy so far.  However, he didn’t put the rope back; he handed it to Shintarou’s hands.  “Don’t let him see you, but don’t stray too far.  I will call.”

Shintarou nodded, and he left as quietly as he came in.

A jar of sleeping draught was also kept in the room.  Seijurou had been eyeing it, but decided not to use it after all.  It would be more fun to watch the boy struggle. 

When Seijurou exited, the maid had been waiting outside.  The tea was still hot.  The clan head took the tray and walked steadily to the guest room where Tetsuya was sitting.  He didn’t check if Shintarou was following.

Tetsuya hadn’t move an inch since he left.  Seijurou sauntered to him, kneeling when he reached Tetsuya’s side.  He was barefooted, Seijurou noticed for the first time, as he served Tetsuya’s cup.  It was summer, though nearing the end, it was still nice out to wear a pair of sandals and shorts.  Still, it wasn’t the first choice to wear to take your dog out around here, was it?  So close to the woods, one would wear long pants and shoes instead of knee-high shorts; something must have happened during the walk.

The boy didn’t enter the woods, though, because his feet were clean and free of scratches.  His soles were red, however, as red as his knees and his elbows when Seijurou found him standing in his porch.  Now that his joints were stretched out, they were as pale as the rest of his body.

Tetsuya must have felt his observation, because this close Seijurou could see the blue veins running on his jaw and thighs popped out from his skin, and how the fine hair on his nape stood!  Seijurou could count the pulse on his neck, the beat faster than the tick of the clock on the wall: one, two, three…

Nervously, Tetsuya’s toes curled in towards his body.  He had pretty feet.

“Has your gardener come back?”

Seijurou smoothly move away from the boy wonder.  “No, I just checked.”

Tetsuya’s face was carefully impassive.  “Okay.”

He didn’t talk much after that.  Seijurou had to push him.

“What is the name of your dog again?”

“His name is Nigou.”

Tetsuya kept his lips on the rim of his cup all the time, so that he didn’t have to say any word.  Seijurou found himself waiting impatiently for the tea to be finished. 

“How was your tea?” asked he once the tea was drained.  His own was mostly untouched. 

“It was great,” Tetsuya answered sincerely.  Finally he looked up at Seijurou, before shifting his eyes away again.  That had been the case since Seijurou came back carrying tea for the other.  Maybe he had seen something in Seijurou’s face then, the redhead didn’t quite know.  He would work on his visage later.  Usually he didn’t need to hide his cruelty.

He didn’t ask the boy where he lived or where he went to school, because it wasn’t like he was going back.  Seijurou did ask, however, what he couldn’t stand (soda), what his favorite food was (no preference, but vanilla milkshake was the best), and whether he preferred modern bed over futon (he sent out strange looks, and didn’t quite answer the question to that). 

Seijurou leaned in.  He breathed and resisted the urge to lick the air.  In this distance Tetsuya’s power covered him in waves, steady pulse, like sea water creaming around your ankles.  Seijurou basked in it.  He couldn’t _take_ this terrific power—it didn’t work like that, you couldn’t transfer a spiritual power that was born with somebody—but Seijurou could _have_ it.  He _would_ have it.

“Do you want more tea?”  asked Seijurou, and before Tetsuya could refuse, he continued, “I’ll have someone get your cup.”

With a flick of his wrist he commanded a shiki to come to him.  It obeyed immediately, sliding across the open door as if it was weightless.  Tetsuya’s eyes had gone wide. 

The shiki slithered slowly, its long limbs swung back and forth.  When it reached the table and put the tea cups into the tray, Tetsuya’s shocked stare landed to Seijurou, to which the older man responded with a sly smile.

“Akashi-san,” appealed Tetsuya after the shiki left.  There was a delicious tremble in his voice.  “You can see them too?”

“I can,” Seijurou replied.  He crossed his arms and put his fist on his yukata’s sleeves. 

“All of the ayakashi I saw in the house...”

“They’re called shiki,” explained the clan head.  “They’re under my control.  There are some ayakashi, too, but they hide, most of the times.”

Tetsuya’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks when he blinked.  “What do you mean by under your control?”

“It’s exactly like I said—they are under _my_ control.  They abide by my commands.” Here, Seijurou pulled out one hand and traced the moisture left by his tea cup.  “Understand that I am an exorcist.  I eliminated ayakashi for human’s protection.  They exist to be tools—if they cease to serve that purpose and begin bothering human, I will not hesitate to kill them.”

“You…” Tetsuya trailed off.  There was no fear on his tone, only disbelief, but his spiritual power showed otherwise: it lashed, and it burned, his fright a fuel.  It looked nice on the boy, fear, or perhaps it was anger?  The ice on his eyes melted.  It glowed.  “Ayakashi are just like us.  They’re living beings, too-“

“Living?” At the word Seijurou laughed, laughed and laughed until his stomach hurt.  Tetsuya visibly recoiled at the sound.  “They’re not _living._   How can you have mercy for creatures that see you as a feast?”

“…feast?” repeated the boy wonder, his voice small.

Seijurou sprung, taking one thin wrist on his hand and pulled hard, so that the boy splayed across the table.  To his immense surprise Tetsuya didn’t grow meek; he glared and his lips thin, his angry brows seemingly misplaced on his placid countenance.

“Yes, feast,” said Seijurou.  What made this boy tick, he wondered…  “Such power in this small body…” and the redhead couldn’t stop himself to angle his head closer, and closer still until his nose was almost pressed against Tetsuya’s cheek.  The boy’s spiritual strength was like silk across his skin, and Seijurou felt envy towards ayakashi for being able to savor and know the taste, because all he could feel was nothingness on his tongue. 

“Let go of me,” and that was the only time Tetsuya raised his voice to Seijurou.  He tried to strike a punch, but Seijurou caught in his palm.  The hit was unexpectedly strong that the clan head almost stumbled back with the force.

It was nothing Seijurou never encountered, however, so he reacted to it easily, using the momentum to pin the boy’s hand to the table. 

“That was rude of you, Tetsuya,” Seijurou chided.  “But I have grown fond of you.  Would you like to join my cause?”

The look Tetsuya gave him was scathing.  His words were sarcastically polite.  “I’m sorry, but I would have to decline.”

“That’s too bad,” commented Seijurou to the denial. He called Shintarou.  Tetsuya struggled anew when he saw the man on the doorway with shimenawa in his hands.

“Please,” begged the boy whilst Seijurou took the rope from his subordinate’s grasp.  Tetsuya’s wrists were transferred to one hand.  Delectable, so delectable.

Seijurou cooed. 

“Don’t worry, Tetsuya, it won’t hurt a bit.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fancy, I'm sorry if this is not what you wanted. :// what IS WRITING WHY DID I EVEN WRITE THIS i am talentless WHY DO YOU WANT ME TO WRITE NATSUME YUUJINCHOU AU I FAILED
> 
> (Un-beta-ed, as always. Somebody please help me with all of my fics.)  
> (crossposted in my tumblr, missherlocked.tumblr.com .)
> 
> Feedback, criticisms and suggestions are always welcomed.


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